The Broken Clock
by TheDevilYouDon't
Summary: The warmth of her lips is what drags you grudgingly back into reality. When your eyes are forced open, you look at her—all brown hair and blue dress, green eyes and white teeth—and you realize why you never did it before. Jim/Pam. Season 2 and  early  3.


**Here's a very sad Jim/Pam fic, mostly about Jim. I actually started this out as a document of my own feelings…for someone, but it ended up as an Office fic. Enjoy. :3**

_The Broken Clock_

You're not exactly sure what it is at first, but there's something in the way she looks at you that highlights whatever it is that's changed. Of course, you didn't notice the gleam in her eyes until everything was even and you weren't the only one staring across the room.

**:::**

**:::**

For some reason whenever she does something dorky, you grin and give a laugh that you've only loosed in her presence. Her eyes light up at the sight of your smile and you can almost feel the tension on your fingertips. That's when someone will walk over, needing something from the pair of you, breaking the moment into the tattered pieces it had been before.

**:::**

**:::**

At night, you lie in bed and close your eyes, her image stitched into the darkness behind your eyelids. Usually this is the moment when your mind will wander with one or more of your hands, thoughts on parts just a little lower, but you can still see her there in the darkness—bright eyes framed by those white teeth and wavy brown hair—and you can't bring yourself to do it. It's the first time since you moved to Scranton that this has been the case, but it's the last time you even have to _think_ about not doing it. The memory of her laugh leaves you blissfully sleepy (a smile stitched on your face) anyway.

**:::**

**:::**

During the next meeting in the conference room, you're the first to sit down. She enters last and walks over to you, an impish grin plastered over her perfect features, and she seats in the empty seat to your left.

She smiles and you grin right back, wondering briefly if the smile will ever leave your face if she keeps looking at you like that. When Michael turns off the lights to increase the "drama" of his presentation, you can feel her shift in her seat and, pretty soon, her knee is against yours. Even though her body language screams that she wants to be close to you and the image of the hand she has on her thigh is probably something you'll always remember, you ignore it and turn your eyes to Michael.

It isn't until your bathroom break directly after the meeting that you see how red your face is.

When you're eating lunch in the break room, she touches your arm to get your attention and you face her as she launches into a story about how she once tried to stick a cookie in her nose. As she talks, she touches your hand at the dramatic parts and you feel yourself blossom under the special attention she's paying to you.

As you both throw away the remains of your lunch, she quietly apologizes for touching you so much. You shake your head and tell her it's okay because it was probably the highlight of your week anyway.

**:::**

**:::**

When Roy takes a few days off to go to the lake with his brother, she asks you for a ride home. You nod and agree because any other answer would have given away the sudden joy you feel.

She hops in your car after work and you try not to tense up at the close proximity of your seats. The silence as you start the car makes you antsy, so you flip on the radio to cover any thoughts you might accidentally say. A song that she knows comes on and she starts to sing the man's part in a low voice. You chuckle as her voice cracks, but you can't help but smirk anyway.

After a moment, you start to sing the female's part in a slightly mocking voice. She laughs and grabs your hand when you reach a stoplight and the warmth from her hands spreads across your fingers and onto your palm. She closes her eyes to make the song more dramatic and you feel the backs of your ears turn red.

Then, she's hopping out of the car and smiling, thanking you for the ride. You silently say, "Any time," and pull away, watching her fish her keys out and opening her house. Because it was never really a matter of discussion, you never mention that the memory of her warm hands is the only thing that gets you through the next few days.

**:::**

**:::**

One night when you're forced to work late, you find her in the stairway crying. After a few moments of kneeling and trying to turn her to look at you, she tells you that she had a fight with Roy. Even later, you don't know what the fight was about, but it left her tattered and alone.

After retrieving a tissue from your pocket and handing it to her, you offer her a ride home and help her to her feet. In the final moments before she opens the car door and walks into her house, you tell her that he's just a boy, barely aware that he's holding on to a queen.

The hug she pulls you into isn't something you're expecting, but you hug back and nod when she tells you that you're sweet. As you pull away, you hold back the tears because "sweet" wasn't what you were aiming for.

**:::**

**:::**

The warmth of her lips is what drags you grudgingly back into reality. When your eyes are forced open, you look at her—all brown hair and blue dress, green eyes and white teeth—and you realize why you never did it before; she's too beautiful to lose. Of course, now you don't have a choice. You have to leave because it's over (not surprising because you knew that this thing you called "friendship" always had an expiration date).

So you pull away. You mumble words you mean and hear words she doesn't and that's it; soft hands are dragged away from your calloused ones, the carpet is soft beneath your shoes, and the door is quiet as it closes behind you. The dim lights of the hallway convince of the finality that's just occurred. No more will you be able to look at her and not feel the memory of her soft lips on yours.

Instead, you just get in your car and drive until the sobs are dry and you're out of breath.

**:::**

**:::**

Karen clicks her pen behind you and the sound is so maddening that your grip on your coffee mug tightens until your knuckles are white. She's trying to hard; harder than you ever tried, that much being certain. When you make her laugh, the sad echo of the laugh you used to have mapped sounds in your ears and it's hard to keep the tears at bay.

The only thing that seems to save you is the small smiley face on the sticky note she gave you on your second day of work. The note is old and starting to get worn and you know it isn't long before you'll have to laminate it, but you like how you can just lean in and smell her with a tilt of your head. The smiley face winks at you in the light coming from your monitor. The ink is green and you smile sadly to yourself as you notice that it's the same shade as her eyes.

**Wow. The sadness of that story should show you how lovelorn I am. :p I need a mate. xD**


End file.
